


always a bridesmaid, never a bride

by merycula (thanksillpass)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wedding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2281266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksillpass/pseuds/merycula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two miserable people at a wedding...</p>
            </blockquote>





	always a bridesmaid, never a bride

So Aomine was way too drunk for this early into the wedding, what of it?

 _You_  try coming alone to the wedding of your best friend who had always been like a sister to you and try not thinking about how you’re gonna die alone now because no one else will want to take care of you. Because you’re an asshole. Also people are idiots. But mostly you’re just an asshole.

And Aomine was a major asshole – he knew that, everyone else knew that. Satsuki knew that too, but she never abandoned him. Until now. So he was miserable and drunk and he really needed to pee.

He raised to his feet unsteadily, knocking some glasses over and earning himself a few offended gasps from old hags sitting nearby. He growled at them, grabbing his drink with one hand and loosening his tie with the other, and staggering away from the tables. Some stupid fucking song was playing, children were running around screaming, and Daiki wondered if Satsuki would even notice if he left.

He hadn’t made even three steps before ramming bodily into some scrawny guy who stumbled back and down right on his ass. Aomine grabbed onto a chair for balance and managed to stay on his feet, but he couldn’t save his drink – it landed on the guy, along with the glass that bounced off his forehead comically.

“I’m sorry,” yelped the guy, putting his joined hands over his head in an apologetic gesture.

Daiki shrugged, happy the weirdo didn’t seem to blame him for the accident even though it clearly _was_  Aomine’s fault. He didn’t want to attract too much attention, and not because he didn’t want to ruin the night for Satsuki, or some sentimental bullshit like that, but because he was certainly too drunk to win a fist fight even with a five-year-old. 

Leaving the soaked guy to get up on his own, Daiki moved along to find a bathroom.  Of course, never the one with great patience, unable to locate it with the span of two minutes, he quickly settled for the next best thing – the fountain. 

His hands were already on his belt when someone wrapped his arms around him from behind and started dragging him away.

“I’m so sorry! I can’t let you do that!  _Children_  play here!”

The guy huffed and hauled Daiki back, barely keeping them both upright, as Aomine grumbled childishly and struggled half-heartedly. He eventually let the guy lead him to the bathroom, leaning on his small frame as his hair tickled Daiki’s chin; he was stronger than he looked and he smelled nice.

“What’s your name,” asked Aomine when they got back to his table.

“Ah, I’m sorry! I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Sakurai Royu, nice to meet you!”

Daiki rolled his eyes, because he doubted there was anything nice about their meeting. “Aomine. Sit with me, there are only old smelly people here.”

He ignored more offended gasps from the same old ladies, just like he ignored the fact that Sakurai could have been here with someone, like most normal people who weren’t assholes and weren’t going to die alone because their only friend got married. But Ryou only smiled weakly and took a sit next to Aomine, pouring himself a liberate amount of wine. Daiki grinned as Sakurai downed it all in one go.

“Not having fun?” he teased.

Sakurai shook his head. “I’m sorry…”

“Not my wedding,” retorted Aomine with a shrug. “You with the groom?”

Ryou smiled bitterly as he poured himself another glass, handing Daiki the bottle. “I’m with catering. Just got fired.”

Aomine whistled, impressed – he thought it would be impossible to find anyone who wanted to be on this wedding even less than Daiki himself. Still, he couldn’t blame the guy for wanting to squeeze as much as possible out of the situation, even if it was just drinking the free alcohol provided by his now former employer. They drank in weirdly comfortable silence for a while, watching the couples swaying to the music on the dance floor.

The sight made Aomine sick so he decided to lay his eyes on something else, which happened to be Sakurai’s face. He was staring down his nearly-empty glass with a smallest frowns, his lips pursed cutely. Ruefully, Daiki decided it was a nice view so he propped his cheek on his hand and kept staring.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen a man with girly features, but there were limits that Ryou’s face seemed to be unaware of. His skin looked soft and Aomine was drunk enough for his fingers to twitch with the urge to touch. But then again he was drunk enough to find the thin strands of hair falling into Sakurai’s eyes  _mesmerizing_. He was really fucking drunk.

Ryou must have felt Daiki’s gaze on him because he suddenly snapped his head up and looked at him, blinking those ridiculously huge eyes that seemed wet and scared, and Aomine cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to his own glass.

“I’m sorry, is there something on my face?”

Sakurai seemed genuinely distressed as he kept patting a non-existent dirt from his cheeks and Daiki’s breath hitched in his throat. He always got caught off guard by people unaware of their of their own attractiveness, as it was something simply incomprehensible for him – someone aware of nothing  _but_ his own worth. He kept staring at Ryou until his lip started trembling, blush slowly creeping on his cheeks, and just as when he looked ready to burst into tears, Aomine waved his hand dismissively.

“I was just staring,” he muttered. “No one ever stared at you or what.”

He was embarrassed now, and nearly gave in to the urge to smash his face against the table when Sakurai shook his head, mumbling apologies as he hid his red face in his hands. Daiki doubted that no one had ever noticed a pretty guy like Ryou, no matter how spooked-looking, and his complete obliviousness was almost too much to handle. Some people really should come with a warning label.

“He’s gonna be much more ugly when I’m sober,” he told himself, downing another glass.

Sakurai squawked indignantly. “I’m sorry! I’ll try not to! I’ll go! I’ll go before Aomine-san is sober!”

Aomine listened to Ryou’s incoherent mumbling for a while, more focused on the movement of his mouth than on actual words coming out of it. He  _really_  wanted to kiss him. Even drunk, he knew they were both miserable and defeated, and making  _any_  decisions in that state was a very bad idea, but he really wanted to.

“I’m gonna go skinny dipping in the fountain,” he announced, getting up.

Ryou gaped at him, grabbing his arm. “I’m sorry, but you absolutely can’t!”

“Well it’s either that or I’m gonna kiss you.”

He could feel his face getting hot; that was a very stupid thing to say. Sakurai was looking at him with wide eyes, his cheeks looking as red as Daiki’s felt, still holding onto his arm. Aomine watch his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed, his own mouth getting dry. He tried tugging his arm free experimentally because Ryou seemed completely frozen in shock. Predictably, Sakurai startled and dropped Daiki’s arm like it burned him.

“I’m sorry! I- I’m very flattered but I’m not this k- Aomine-san is drunk and- I’m drunk and- I’m sorry, but-”

Aomine tuned out Ryou’s muttering again and slowly dropped back onto his seat. Sakurai was still talking when he leaned in, the heat of Ryou’s body making him dizzy. Or maybe it was the wine. Either way, he felt light-headed and Sakurai’s smell was kind of intoxicating, and all he could think of was having that smell linger on his sheets the next day, and the next, and forever. He was so incredibly drunk.

“A-aomine-san?”

Daiki felt his mouth mold into something that was supposed to be a smile but might as well have ended up being a terrifying grimace, judging by Ryou’s soft yelp. He ignored that too, because they were so close to each other he could smell the wine on Sakurai’s breath, and if he would just lift his head a tiny bit, Aomine could kiss him.

“Ryou,” he sighed impatiently.

Everything was spinning and Daiki wondered if it was normal when you’d just met someone, but then everything stopped and turned black.

He woke up with a headache did see coming, but the numbness in his entire body was less than expected. He wanted to wake up in his bed, preferably with the wedding being just an awful dream, and not on a chair, squished between a table and very bony person. He refused to open his eyes, as the morning light irritated his eyes even through closed eyelids. Something smelled good but the body pressed against him was too hot for comfort, so he reluctantly lifted himself up.

He groaned and stretched his arms above his head, shivering as his back popped. He looked around and notice, with no small amount of satisfaction, that he wasn’t the only one who ended up sleeping like that – he could see Satsuki’s legs sticking up from under one of the table. He grinned and instinctively reached out to poke the person he woke up with and share his discovery.

He blanched when he saw Sakurai’s sleeping face and the memories from last night flooded his abused head. He was so embarrassed it was hard to breathe, and he fumbled for an unfinished bottle of wine, knocking some empty ones in the process. Ryou woke up with a start, clutching at his chest and looking around, panic painting his features. He sighed in relief as soon as he localized the source of noise, smiling unsurely at Aomine.

Daiki just stared, again, just taking in Sakurai’s flushed face, the way his hair were sticking up in all the wrong places, how his stained shirt was sticking to his sweaty neck, and he was  _upset._  He frowned, glaring at Ryou, whose face drained color in fear as soon as he noticed Aomine’s frustration.

“W-what,” he stammered. “I’m s-sorry! What did I do?!”

Daiki clicked his tongue in annoyance and crossed his arms on his chest, feeling cheated. “You aren’t any less pretty.” 


End file.
